Memory of His Last Breath
by Noella-Ange
Summary: Sam awoke to a low, pain filled groan. He opened his eyes and turned his head in time to see Dean bolt upright in bed breathing harshly, his hands clutching his chest. First hunt following "Waiting for the Rain to Fall", post-season 3. Not a death-fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Memory of His Last Breath**

_Disclaimer: The boys are Kripke's, but the story's all mine._

_A/N: Takes place after __Waiting for the Rain to Fall_.

* * *

Sam awoke to a low, pain filled groan. He opened his eyes and turned his head in time to see Dean bolt upright in bed breathing harshly, his hands clutching his chest. Sam would have feigned sleep to allow Dean's dignity to remain in place, if not for his brother's hands. It took Sam no more than a second to jump out of his bed and sit perched on Dean's.

"Dean-"

"I'm fine Sam, just a dream." Dean wiped one hand over his sweat soaked face as he fought to slow his breathing. His other hand was still on his chest.

With more than a touch of concern in his voice, Sam asked "Are you hurting?"

"What? No, I told you I'm fine. I'm…I'm just gonna head to the bathroom." Dean clumsily tossed the blankets aside, and staggered his way out of the room.

Unsure of what he should do next, Sam returned to his bed. He was amazed Dean was even able to function these days. It seemed his sleep was interrupted most if not every night.

The boys had been staying at Bobby's for a few weeks now, steadfastly working to figure out what had happened to Dean. As of yet, they have come up with nothing. As far as Sam and Bobby knew, Dean had died and went to Hell a few months ago. Then one day, there he was, outside of Sam's motel door. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Dean had no clue that he had died. Dean had no memory whatsoever pertaining to what may or may not have happened during his absence.

Sam suspected that these nightmares were tied to his forgotten memories. But would Dean talk to him about them? Of course not. Sam was expected to ignore the nightmares and watch his brother suffer in his silence.

Which is kinda what he'd been doing. He asked questions on occasion but didn't push Dean for answers. Truth is, he was afraid Dean might remember dying…and what came after. Sam knows Dean is a strong person, but remembering Hell? That just may be too much. He would much rather have Bobby and himself come upon some explanation, without Dean recovering his memories. Of course, Bobby would then expect him to tell Dean about his death.

After awhile, Dean returned to the room. Without a glance at Sam, he climbed into his bed, turning his back towards his brother. He hoped to make his intent clear that there would be no midnight confessions regarding his nightmare. Not that there was anything he _could _say, the images from the dream were lost upon waking. He closed his eyes and prayed for a soft, dark, and dreamless sleep, knowing there was a snowball's chance in Hell of that happening. He listened as Sam shifted back under his covers.

Sam let him get away with too much these days. Before he…well, disappeared, his brother would have grilled him all night if he had to, just to get any tidbit of information he could about his dreams. Now, he makes a half-hearted effort, then backs down. Dean welcomed the change in his brother at a time like this, but part of him saw it as proof that something was wrong.

SPNSPNSPN

The usual morning sounds of Bobby preparing breakfast woke both Sam and Dean. The delicious aromas of coffee and omelets greeted the boys as soon as they entered the kitchen.

"Mornin' Bobby. Anything I can help with?" Sam asked.

"Nope. You boys just sit and enjoy your breakfast, before you have to clean-up." Bobby smiled as he plated the food and brought it to the table.

Dean filled a mug with coffee and joined his brother and Bobby at the table. "Ugh, clean-up duty again."

"Dean, any time you wanna get up early and make breakfast, I'll do the cleanin' up." Bobby replied as he passed the salt shaker to Dean. He couldn't help but notice the dark circles that were under his friend's eyes. A testament to another restless night.

"So, an old friend of mine called me earlier this morning. He wanted to know if I was interested in a job that he's come across. He'd do it himself only he's smack dab in the middle of dealing with a stubborn vengeful spirit. I was thinking you boys might be interested if only to take a break from our research."

Dean gave a hearty "Hell, yeah!" at the same time as Sam's "No!"

Sam shot his brother an exasperated look, "Dean, we're already working a job - your's!"

"Come on, Sammy. It's been ages since we've had any fun. What will we be dealing with Bobby?"

After shifting his ball cap on his head, Bobby stated, "Here's all that info he had, and it ain't much: There have been three deaths in the past month in Nelson, Indiana. Official cause of death is exsanguination."

Dean snorted, "Vampires? See Sammy, fun!"

"One more thing," Bobby continued, "no physical trauma to the bodies."

Sam turned imploring eyes on his brother, "Look, it sounds interesting and all, but Dean we're busy now. Let someone else handle it for once."

"For _once_? Sam, we've been sitting on our asses for far too long with nothing to show for it. We are no closer to finding out what happened to me today than we were three weeks ago."

"Dean-"

Dean continued over Sam, "It's just one case. We could probably have the evil sonofabitch put down in no time."

"Dean," Sam raised his voice, trying in vain to get his brother to see reason. "We need to remain focused on you and-"

"Damn it, Sam-"

"That's enough you two!" Bobby stared down each brother in turn, just daring them to pick up the argument. When it was clear that they were done, Bobby resumed eating his omelet. To defuse the situation, he added, "Besides, I slaved over a hot stove to provide you with a nice warm breakfast and I expect it to be eaten before it gets too cold. You can continue fussin' later."

"Sorry, Bobby." Dean and Sam replied simultaneously.

In spite of Bobby's attempt, the tense silence in the kitchen wasn't broken until the clean-up was complete. Dean put the dish towel on the counter, then walked out the back door.

"Sam-"

"Bobby, I don't want to hear it right now. I don't think we should do the job." Sam lowered his voice and glanced at the back door. "I…I don't know if he's ready."

"_Ready? _What are you talkin' about?" Bobby truly looked surprised by Sam's confession.

"Come on, I know you know he hasn't been sleeping well. All of this…it's eating at him. And it's not like we have found any answers for his…reappearance." Sam guiltily lowered his eyes to the table.

"But this job may be just what he needs. A chance to feel like he's in control of something. And besides, you know how restless he gets. This could be good for the both of you. If needed, I could pitch in, too." Bobby rose from his seat at the table and turned to leave, "Just think about it, Sam."

After a beat, Sam sighed, "So…there have been three deaths?" Bobby smiled to himself, it looked like Dean would be getting what he wanted.

SPNSPNSPN

Later that afternoon, Sam and Dean were pouring over the limited information they had collected online about the deaths in Nelson, Indiana.

Bobby walked into the living room. He watched the brothers silently for a few moments. He had missed seeing them puzzling over cases with their boyish enthusiasm. As he sat next to Sam, he said, "Okay, boys. Nutshell it for me."

Sam began, "We don't have much more than you gave us. As you said, there have been three deaths: one woman, two men. All have died at some time during the night. One was working late, two were at home. The official cause of death for each of them is exsanguination but with no physical trauma."

"As far as the newspaper articles have stated, none of the victims had anything in common and there weren't any reliable witnesses," Dean finished.

"Any theories on what did it?"

"My first thought was a vampire, but they definitely leave their mark. As for what else it could be, there are too many possibilities." Dean glanced over at Sam, silently asking him for his thoughts, seeing if he was invested in this hunt yet.

"We need more information than what we have right now. So…I guess we hit the road." Dean's grin stretched from ear to ear at Sam's words. They would be having some fun after all.

SPNSPNSPN

Both sides of Main Street in the picturesque town of Nelson were lined with charming stores and eateries. A row of old-fashioned lampposts ran the length of the bricked sidewalk. It seemed to be the kind of town that was small enough for everyone to know everybody. It was just around lunchtime when the Impala pulled into a parking spot in front of the Sunnyside Cafe.

Gazing out the car window, Dean uttered with disgust, "It looks like one of those cutesy towns."

"Suck it up, Dean," Sam smiled at his brother's obvious discontent as they climbed out of the car.

"You know I hate these kinds of towns. They're just…creepy." Dean punctuated his sentence with an exaggerated shudder. "Can't you just picture the schools filled with Stepford children, the homes filled with Stepford wives? It's enough to make my skin crawl."

Sam was still laughing at his brother's melodramatic behavior as they entered the café. Not appreciating being the source of Sam's amusement, Dean turned quickly to cuff Sam on the back of the head, but instead bumped into an elderly woman. Only his quick reflexes kept her from falling to the floor.

Red faced, he quickly apologized, "I'm so sorry, Ma'am."

"It's quite alright, young man. No harm done. You have a nice day," the woman smiled cheerfully as she walked out the door.

Sam burst into laughter again as they sat in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. "You should have seen the look on your face when you trampled that sweet old lady."

"I didn't trample anybody," Dean grumbled.

A middle-aged blonde approached their table, "Hi, I'm Cindy and I'll be your waitress. What can I get you fellas?"

"I'll have the lunch special and a coke," Dean ordered.

"Make that two, please," added Sam. As soon as the waitress left, he asked, "Where do you want to start?"

"Let's interview the surviving relatives, see if we can find a connection the cops missed." Dean replied. "But first thing after lunch, we need to find a hotel."

"Sounds like a plan."

SPNSPNSPN

After checking into the Ashling Motel, the brothers put on their suits and headed to the home of the first victim, Charlie Lassiter. Mrs. Lassiter opened the door to them shortly after they explained they were with her husband's life insurance company.

Sam began gently, "Mrs. Lassiter, we are sorry for your loss. We have just a few questions then we'll be on our way. Were you home the night your husband died?"

"Yes, but I had already gone to bed. He…," Mrs. Lassiter broke off to dry her eyes with a tissue. "He wanted to stay up to watch some late night show. I f-found him the next morning."

"Did you hear or see anything unusual that night?" Dean asked.

"No, nothing." Mrs. Lassiter reached for another tissue.

Sam continued, "What about the days prior to his death?"

"There wasn't anything unusual that night or earlier. Nothing at all."

SPNSPNSPN

"Well, that was a waste of a perfectly good afternoon." Dean threw the room key onto the table with one hand and loosened his tie with his other hand.

Sam closed the motel room door. Like his brother, he was frustrated with the lack of clues in this case. After visiting Mrs. Lassiter, they went to see the second and third victims' spouses. Neither one knew of anything unusual. Furthermore, there still wasn't anything connecting the victims to each other, except for the fact they lived in the same town.

Dean was digging around in his duffel for a change of clothes. "I get dibs on the shower," he called.

"It's all your's. I'm going to run out for some food. How does pizza sound?" Sam asked.

"Great, I'm starving. Don't be gone long." Dean tossed the car keys to him and turned for the bathroom.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Dean was washed and dressed, sitting on a bed, searching for a decent program to watch on TV. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of golden orange light under the motel room door.

As he stood for a closer inspection, a ball of fire came through the crack under the door. Before he could make a move to defend himself, the orb enveloped him. Dean tried to push it away, but it was as useless as pushing back air. His mind tried to make sense out of what was happening. The ball of fire wasn't even hot and seemed harmless until he felt teeth pierce his neck. Through the sharp agonizing pain, he fought to keep his eyes open, but in the end his eyes slid closed as he gave in to the darkness.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam balanced the pizza and beer in one hand, while he unlocked the room door with his other. As he walked through the doorway, his eyes immediately shot to the strange ball of fire that surrounded his brother. Without a second thought, he dropped everything to the floor as he grabbed the rock-salt loaded shotgun that was always kept near the door.

After trying, and failing, to line up a shot that wouldn't hurt Dean, Sam took his chances and opened fire. The rock-salt would hurt but not kill his brother. As soon as it was hit, the ball of fire shrieked and flew out the open door. Dean collapsed to the rug unconscious.

Sam quickly knelt by his brother's side to check for a pulse. Once he found it beating strong and steady, he sighed with relief and examined Dean for wounds. His shirt was in one piece, so the rock-salt must not have cut him but he would most likely be sore for a few days. Then as soon as he found twin puncture wounds aside Dean's neck, Sam watched in shock as they closed without leaving a mark.

"Hey, Dean - Dean wake up." Sam shook his brother gently.

"Not now, m'tired." Dean tried to roll away from Sam's insistent shaking.

"Come on, open your eyes for me." Hearing the worry barely covering the panic in Sam's voice convinced Dean he'd better do as he was told. His eyes found Sam's as he heard, "Dean, are you okay?"

"Just peachy. Help me up." Sam slid his arm beneath Dean's shoulders to assist him into a sitting position.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Dean stared quizzically at his brother. "Did you just shoot me?"

"If you're really okay we need to pack now, talk later. I just fired a shotgun and would like to be outta here before the cops come." Sam began gathering everything and shoving it all into the duffel bags.

Dean groaned and rubbed his aching chest as he stood up. "You _did _shoot me!" Seeing that he wasn't going to get an explanation now, he took one of the bags from Sam to help him pack. Within minutes, the boys were in the car and headed to another motel.

SPNSPNSPN

Once settled into the Nelson Motor Lodge, Sam had fired up his laptop and went into research mode. Still feeling a bit fatigued after the attack, Dean stretched out on the bed nearest the door, and within minutes was fast asleep.

"I've got it!"

Dean was startled awake by his brother's triumphant cry. He gingerly climbed to his feet and joined his brother at the small table. "What the hell are we dealing with?"

"A soucouyant. According to the lore it appears as an old woman who sheds her skin at night. She flies through the air, usually appearing as a ball of fire and sucks the blood from her victims without leaving a mark. Apparently, she secretes some sort of fluid that closes the bite wounds when she's finished." Smiling to himself after seeing Dean's look of disgust, Sam continued, "She is also able to gain access to a room through any small opening, even a keyhole."

"That explains my bite marks disappearing. And how she came through the crack under the door. Did you find a way to kill her?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it seems simple really. You need to sprinkle her empty skin with hot pepper. When she crawls back in at sunrise, she burns to death."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Hot pepper? You're kidding, right?"

"No, that's what's in the lore." Sam's brow wrinkled in thought, "I wonder if we could use a summoning spell to make her return to her skin before morning?"

"I sure as hell hope so. I don't want to wait for her to finish chowing down on someone before we can off her. Is there any way to determine who she is while she's in her skin?"

"Not that I can find. One site mentions the soucouyant usually lives on the outskirts of town. Even if that is true, it may be difficult to find her."

"Maybe, maybe not." Dean replied cryptically with a mischievous grin on his face.

"What do you have in mind?" Sam watched his brother's grin grow wider. "Wh-? No Dean, we are not going to round up all the female senior citizens and sprinkle them with pepper then wait to see which one bursts into flames in the morning."

Dean laughed, "You know me too well Sammy." He then frowned and cocked his head to the side. "But yeah, I see your point. That would take a _lot _of pepper." Sam rolled his eyes. "But all kidding aside, we could use a town map and plot out the locations of each death. It may help us pinpoint the location of the soucouyant."

"I can get the town map online. Hand me the list of addresses." Sam worked in silence for a few moments. "Okay, this is what it looks like with markings for each of the places where the victims were found dead."

"They _are _near the edge of town. Can you find out how many houses are out that far?"

"I can look up the land records and find out if any older women live out that way, but it's gonna take some time." Sam stretched and yawned. "Why don't we call it a night and start early tomorrow."

Both boys settled into their beds. Dean waited until Sam's even breaths signaled he was in a deep sleep. Then he made his way to the laptop on the table and took it upon himself to search the land records. In truth, he was too keyed up, too close to finishing this hunt, to be able to sleep. And it's not like he'd be getting a good rest anyway. He was at the point where he had forgotten was a good night's rest felt like. So he figured this would be a better use of his time.

He was able to narrow the possible locations down to a two block area where, luckily, the houses were few and far between. Most were owned by young families or middle age couples, only one was owned by an elderly woman, Mable Spencer. And it turns out she purchased the property a little over a month ago, right before the first death.

"Yahtzee! And here college boy thought he was the only one who knew his way around the computer." He glanced at his watch and saw it was already after seven in the morning. _Damn, we can't do anything until tonight. Today is going to be one hell of a long day._

SPNSPNSPN

Finally, night had fallen and the Impala was parked a short distance down the street from Mable Spencer's house. Her ranch style house sat away from her neighbors and was backed up to a wooded lot. From their position, the brothers had a good view of the front, right side, and a little bit of the backyard of the house. They hoped her interrupted meal last night would prompt her to make a move tonight. With an incantation to summon the soucouyant, shotguns and hot pepper, Sam and Dean were as ready as they would ever be.

It was shortly after one, when both brothers finally saw what they were waiting for: a ball of fire left the house and disappeared into the woods.

"That's our cue. Let's make this quick before she gets a chance to do some damage." Dean led the way across the yard to the front steps. Without wasting a second, he kicked in the front door.

Sam sighed, "Did it ever occur to you to try the knob?"

Dean grinned, "What? And waste a perfectly good excuse to kick something?"

"You're unbelievable."

"That's what I keep telling you, Sammy!"

After clicking on their flashlights, the brothers walked cautiously through the doorway. At first glance, Mable's home appeared no different than any other. Decent furniture, knick-knacks on every available surface, and pictures of loved ones on the walls. It was while Dean was looking at one of the pictures that he realized he had seen the woman before.

"Sam, recognize her?" With a knowing smirk, Dean pointed out the woman in question.

Sam raised his eyebrows in shock. "The woman you trampled in the diner!"

"Hey, I didn't-"

But Sam cut him off. "That's how she found us so quickly. She made us as soon as she saw us."

"Come on, we have a skin to find," Dean turned away from the pictures to resume searching.

After they made sure the living room was clear, they scanned the rest of the rooms on the first floor. Both brothers then headed for the basement stairs. Once downstairs, Dean grabbed the pull cord and light flooded the basement. There were boxes stacked along the wall to their right and straight ahead. A washer and dryer was to the left.

Dean sighed, "If you were a skin, where would you be?"

"Funny. She probably uses the same hiding spot each time so look for boxes that aren't so dusty." Sam was scanning the boxes closest to him as he spoke.

Dean was looking through some of the boxes toward the back when he heard Sam call out, "It's here, in this old wooden chest."

Walking over to Sam, Dean peered into the chest, "Well, that's just gross." The skin had the appearance of an old latex Halloween mask. It was folded many times in order to fit into the small space.

Sam pulled out the bottle of hot pepper and sprinkled the skin liberally. He stepped back a few feet, pulled out the summoning spell and glanced at his brother. Dean raised the shotgun he was carrying and gave an almost imperceptible nod to Sam.

Taking his cue, Sam began, "Nos dico vos continuo huic vicis quod locus. Reverto ut vestri tergum per festinatio."

"Sam, down!" Dean fired at the ball of fire that materialized behind his brother. It screeched deafeningly before it flickered then faded out. Sam moved further away from the skin in the wooden chest and continued.

"Is dico vos can non ignarus. Repleo is tergum vulnero alius haud magis." The soucouyant reappeared next to the chest. Dean kept the gun trained on it as both brothers watched as trails of fire seemed to be pulled toward the skin.

"Quondam in pars vos ero irretitus. Quod solvo is universitas of vestri ira," Sam finished the incantation. But before succumbing to the pull, the fire ball shot towards Sam and knocked him to the floor. Just as it began to envelope him, he heard a shotgun blast. The soucouyant shrieked again as her hold on Sam was broken and she was pulled for the final time into her skin.

"Sammy!"

"I'm okay, Dean." Sam grabbed Dean's offered hand and was promptly hauled to his feet. A hissing sound from the wooden chest drew both brothers near. As they peered inside, the skin withered and began to blister. A sudden burst of flames caused both of them to jump back a few steps.

"Think that's it?" Dean cautiously examined the small pile of ash left in the chest.

"Yeah, she's gone." Sam smiled. "Let's get out of here."

SPNSPNSPN

The darkness swirled like a fog in front of his eyes. His heart pounded as he struggled for breath. Then Ruby was there, but she wasn't Ruby. Then his chest, oh god, razor sharp claws tore his skin to shreds and bathed him in his own blood. He couldn't hold back the agonized scream that ruptured from his throat.

As he became aware of his surroundings and Sam hovering just inches away, Dean realized he had been awaken by his own scream. And this time, he remembered his dream. Or more importantly, he realized what the dream had been all along - part of his missing memories. As the last moments replayed themselves like a movie in his mind, he witnessed the memory of his last breath. Still struggling to regain control of his breathing through the mix of emotions coursing through him, he couldn't do much more than turn accusing eyes on his brother. This was it, this was what Sam had been keeping from him.

"You knew." Dean's voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, yet Sam could still hear the hurt and betrayal his brother felt.

With tears in his eyes, Sam began, "Dean-"

"How could you not tell me? Didn't you think I might want to know that I _died_?" Dean's voice raised in volume with each word.

Sam turned pleading eyes on his brother, "Bobby and I wanted to figure out how you came back before-" The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he screwed up.

"Bobby knew too! What the hell, Sam?" Dean pushed Sam to the side and climbed out of his bed. But once out of bed, he didn't know what to do with himself. So, he paced the length of the motel room.

Seeing his brother so uncharacteristically lost and distressed, Sam tried to explain again. "When you appeared after a few months, Bobby and I weren't sure what to do. I asked him not to tell you, at least not until we knew who or what brought you back. But even after all our research, we still have no idea."

"So, what? You figured you never had to tell me? You were just going to wait until I was blind-sided by some damn memory? Shit, was I in hell?" Dean's face paled as he seemed to list to the side. He grabbed the back of a nearby chair to steady himself.

"Dean," Sam jumped up hurriedly, "sit for a minute, please. This must be a lot to take in right now."

"Ya think?" But instead of sitting, Dean picked up his clothes from earlier and hastily put them back on. When he picked up his keys, Sam moved to block the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I can't…I want…just need to think." Dean's voice trembled brokenly. His urgent need to flee, to find enough air to breathe, drowned out all reason.

"Dean, don't." Sam whispered.

"Sam." The despair in Dean's eyes silently pleaded with Sam to just let him go.

Knowing he could no longer deny Dean his escape, Sam moved away from the door. He caught one last glimpse of his shattered brother just before the door closed. Frozen in his guilt and grief, Sam stood alone in the motel room, tears falling silently unchecked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Memory of His Last Breath: Chapter 2**

* * *

The Impala cruised down Main Street, past all the businesses that were as dark and empty as Dean felt. He knew he should feel something, but once he left the motel room, once he was away from his brother, it was as if his emotions had locked themselves out of his conscious reach.

He lowered the driver side window, and relished the feel of the wind caressing his face. Taking deep lungfuls of air, he realized he could breathe again. Maybe this was all he needed, just some time and space to drive aimlessly around the small town in the only sanctuary he'd ever known.

His cell phone rang. He wasn't ready to answer it yet. He knew it was Sam, but he checked the caller ID anyway. He was more than shocked to see the cell's display revealed it had been two hours since he left Sam. _My, how time flies when you're trying to block all thoughts of your death._

Damn, that thought certainly was a sneaky little bitch. He tried to push it once again to the back of his mind, but damn was it stubborn. He had died. _Died and gone to hell_. Dean's hands started to tremble and he gripped the wheel tighter as the images from his nightmare flared in his mind.

It was more than he was able to stand, forcing Dean to pull over on the side of the road. Steel bands of fear and despair wrapped themselves around his chest, making his breaths come in short, quick gasps. Dots swam in his vision. He had to get out of the car, _get out now!_

He threw the door open and propelled himself out into the night. He landed on his hands and knees in the dirt on the edge of the roadway. Remaining on the ground, Dean moved until his back was pressed up against the side of the car. His whole body was wracked with tremors at this point, his eyes were squeezed shut against the tears that threatened to fall, and his hands clutched his chest trying to stave off the phantom pains from his death.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam paced the motel floor for possibly the hundredth time. Guilt and worry were at war inside of him. He should have handled this better, he should have told Dean that first night he had returned. But instead he had let Dean believe he had simply disappeared.

And there had been so many times when Dean just looked at him with unspoken questions in his eyes, like he knew something was off but didn't want to ask. Sam could have told him then. Dean's words replayed themselves in his head, "_You were just going to wait until I was blind-sided by some damn memory?" _

Sam laughed bitterly as he mumbled to himself, "That's exactly what I did. And you deserved more than that."

He angrily wiped the few sparse tears that still fell on occasion. The should haves and could haves were driving him to the brink of insanity. Damn, where the hell was Dean. He shouldn't be alone right now. _But he is, all because of me._

He picked up his cell again. His last call went unanswered but maybe Dean will pick up this time. He needed to know his brother was okay, at least physically if not emotionally.

SPNSPNSPN

Dimly, Dean became aware his cell was ringing again. He groped in his pocket and pulled it out with unsteady hands.

"Sammy…" Dean whispered raggedly.

"Dean, where are you?" Sam's worry was clear in his voice.

"I don't…I'm not sure." Dean blinked in confusion, he honestly wasn't sure at this point where in town he was. The hand holding the phone dropped to his side as he craned his neck, hoping for a glimpse of a street sign.

"Dean?…Dean!" Sam's panicked shout came through the phone.

Dean quickly replaced the phone to his ear, "I'm here. I think I might be on Burton Avenue."

"Are you still driving?" Sam asked.

"No, I couldn't…I had to stop…" Dean's voice faded to silence.

"Dean, listen to me. Stay where you are. I'll be there as soon as I can." As he was talking, Sam looked out the motel room window to consider which of the lucky cars in the lot would get to be hot-wired.

"Just hurry."

SPNSPNSPN

It didn't take Sam long to locate his brother. The black Impala gleamed like a beacon in the moonlight as Sam parked behind her. Quickly exiting the Honda that he had "borrowed", he rounded the Impala and came to a sudden stop. His brother was sitting on the ground against the rear driver's side door. Dean's knees were pulled into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His head rested on his arms, his face turned away from Sam.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam cautiously walked closer to his brother, not wanting to startle him.

"M'okay." Dean replied in a flat emotionless voice. He slowly lifted his head to look in Sam's direction with pain-filled eyes. "Shouldn't have left, not your fault."

For once, Sam was at a complete loss as for what to do. His big brother, the strongest person he knew, seemed so lost and broken. He had never seen Dean like this, not even after their father had died.

"Dean, let's head back to the motel." Sam reached out a hand to help his brother up, but Dean didn't move a muscle. Just continued to stare at Sam with those gut-wrenching eyes.

"Don't think I can get back in the car, not enough air in there." The last few words were said in a whisper.

Sam crouched in front of Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can't stay on the side of the road. Especially with a stolen car parked a few feet away."

"Okay, Sammy, we'll go." Dean gingerly climbed to his feet with some help from Sam, who then led him to the passenger side. When Dean was fully in his seat, Sam closed the door and ran around to the driver's side.

Once behind the wheel, Sam pulled onto the road without another glance at the hot-wired car he was leaving behind.

SPNSPNSPN

Back at the hotel, both boys had settled into their beds. Watching the shadows dance across the ceiling while lost in their own thoughts, neither was able to sleep.

Dean hadn't said another word since climbing into the car. He was physically unable to burden his brother with his runaway thoughts. He knew arguing with Sam earlier was uncalled for. In truth, he didn't blame Sam for not telling him. It's not like he was quick to tell Sam that _he_ had died. And if it wasn't for Jake telling him, Sam probably still wouldn't know.

After his little freak-out on the side of the road, Dean decided he had to find a better way to deal with this. He caused Sam undo worry, and most likely a whole ration of undeserved guilt. Because that was how Sam worked. The kid blamed himself for many things that weren't his fault.

So, he had died. The important thing was, he wasn't dead anymore. Now he just needed to focus on the how and why.

Sam's unruly thoughts were almost in line with Dean's. He knew the only way to control the situation was to figure out who or what brought his brother back and find out if there was an ulterior motive. Which was what Bobby and he were attempting to do before the hunt for the soucouyant.

SPNSPNSPN

"Come on Sleeping Beauty, up and at'em." Sam opened his bleary eyes and saw Dean standing by the table, coffee cup in his hand. "I got some breakfast, hope you don't mind doughnuts. I even got you one of your girly coffees, mocha-almond-vanilla-something or other."

Sam yawned as he sat up, "Thanks. What time is it?"

With a quick glance at his watch, Dean replied, "Almost eight. I want to get on the road soon, so get your ass out of bed."

Sam laughed, "My, aren't you Miss Mary Sunshine this morning."

"I'm just eager to get back to Bobby's to research." Dean's eyes slid to the floor as he talked.

Sam studied Dean for a moment. Judging by the ever-present dark circles under his eyes, it wasn't likely he got much, if any, sleep last night. And the fact he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, led Sam to assume his current cup of coffee hadn't been his first this morning. But, other than that, Dean's game face was locked into place and his whole I'm-fine-Sammy act was in full swing.

"Just give me fifteen minutes, then I'll be ready." Sam grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel and headed towards the bathroom.

SPNSPNSPN

Driving as if he were trying to qualify for the Daytona 500, Dean managed to get them back to Bobby's just before midnight. After going over the hunt with Bobby, the three men said their goodnights and went to bed.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning, and still Dean was unable to sleep. Figuring there were much better things he could be doing than tossing and turning, he climbed out of his bed as quietly as he could. He padded barefoot out of the room and down the stairs.

Grabbing the weapons bag, Dean sat on the couch and began to slowly and carefully clean the guns and sharpen the knives. When he was done with their weapons he started on some of Bobby's. It was busy work that helped chase away the restlessness he has felt since the night before.

"Dean? What are you doin' up this early?" Dean glanced up from his task to see Bobby enter the living room. Noticing for the first time the post-dawn light flooding the room, Dean was relieved the night was over.

Bobby's eyes took in the weapons that were spread around the room on the various end tables and such. Dean had a look on his face like he didn't quite know how to answer. "You didn't sleep a wink, did you?"

A ghost of a smile crossed Dean's lips, "Can't sleep, the clowns will eat me."

"Cute." Bobby moved across the room to join him on the couch. "You wanna tell me what else happened in Nelson?"

His face completely expressionless, Dean replied, "I remembered dying. I remembered the hellhounds ripping my body to shreds while my little brother watched helplessly."

Bobby's face paled, "Dean-"

"It's okay, I'm fine. Just anxious to start my research. You making breakfast now?"

Bobby stared at Dean in veiled amazement. Dean had gone from the topic of his death to breakfast without batting an eye. He decided it was probably best to leave it alone for now. "You offerin' to help?"

"Sure, but only if Sam has to do all the clean-up." Dean, cheered by that thought, returned all the weapons to where they belonged and followed Bobby into the kitchen.

SPNSPNSPN

It was several nights later when Sam awoke to a heavy silence. He focused his sleepy eyes on his brother's bed and found the reason for the quiet. Dean wasn't there.

Sam sighed wearily. He knew Dean had been sneaking out of bed every night. Bobby had mentioned to Sam that he usually found Dean cleaning weapons or reading in the early morning hours. As far as he knew, Dean hadn't slept since they arrived at Bobby's.

Sam climbed out of bed with the intention of finding his brother and putting a stop to this. He traipsed down the stairs and into the living room.

Dean looked up from the book he was reading when Sam entered. "What are you doing up?"

Sam sat down next to Dean on the couch, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Just research," Dean replied, pointing to the book.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I can see that. I meant, what are you doing up _now_? You do know it's the middle of the night, don't you?"

Dean avoided his brother's eyes as he answered, "I couldn't sleep."

"Couldn't sleep or wouldn't sleep?" Sam pointedly glared at a mug still half-filled with black coffee on the end table.

Dean sighed, "Sam-"

"No Dean, don't bother denying it," Sam interrupted sharply. "Do you think I don't see what you're doing?"

With annoyance creeping into his voice, Dean snapped, "Drop it, Sam."

"Just tell me why you won't let yourself sleep."

Dean stood up, "_Why_?" He started pacing the length of the living room. "I wonder how eager you would be to sleep if…" His voice trailed off.

Sam's tone softened, "Please, just tell me."

Dean stopped pacing and turned to Sam. Looking anywhere but directly at his brother, he whispered, "What if I remember more?"

For the first time in days, Dean's stoic mask slipped, revealing how frightened he really was. Sam knew, if it wasn't for his exhaustion, Dean would never have allowed his brother to see his fear. Once again, Sam didn't have the words to make his brother feel better. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

"Don't worry Sammy, I didn't expect you to have all the answers," Dean's disappointment was clear.

"I wish I knew what to say-" Sam began.

Dean smiled wanly, "Well, you know what they say about wishes. Wish in one hand and crap in the other, see which one fills faster."

Making it clear that this discussion was over, Dean returned to the couch and resumed reading from the book he had earlier. With a heavy heart, Sam went back to bed.

SPNSPNSPN

"Find anything yet, Bobby."

Bobby, glanced up as Sam walked into the living room. He hadn't seen Sam since he went into hiding with his laptop after breakfast. "Not yet. There are references to all kinds of creatures bringin' back people, hell, even people bringin' back people. But nothing about bringin' back souls banished to…hell." Bobby's eyes flicked in Dean's direction.

Dean spoke up from the table where he was sitting, "We know crossroad demons can resurrect people, even ones in hell. That bitch demon in Mississippi told me herself she could bring Dad back, but only if I made a deal."

"So, you think it could have been a crossroad demon?" Sam placed the laptop on the coffee table and sat on the couch.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "If it was, who made the deal?"

Bobby paused a moment, then spoke cautiously. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe it wasn't something up here, but instead something that was in hell with you."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, "Could a demon do that, resurrect someone from down there while they themselves are trapped in hell?"

"Whose to say what all demons can or cannot do." Bobby gestured to the piles and piles of books. "For every book you see here, there are thousands more out there. We could simply be missing the one book that could explain all this."

Dean stood to replace a book on one of the stacks. "That's not a very comforting thought." He then ran his fingers lightly over the other books, scanning their titles.

Sam sighed dejectedly, "Even if that was possible, it doesn't explain why."

Dean grinned at his brother, "That's easy. Lucifer himself realized I was too darn handsome, and it was distracting the demons from wrecking havoc on the world. He had no other choice than to get rid of me."

Sam smiled weakly, while Bobby said, "Damn, I'm surprised you can fit in the living room with that large ego of your's."

Sam and Bobby laughed out loud at the affronted look that passed across Dean's face. "It's obvious you two are just jealous."

Dean had turned back to the stack of books to pick up one that he hadn't read yet, when he felt the room shift around him. _That can't be good_. He pushed the heals of his hands into his eyes, hoping to suppress the sudden vertigo.

He thought he heard Sam call out his name. As his vision darkened, he tried to answer his brother. He felt hands grab him, then he knew nothing more.

SPNSPNSPN

Sam saw Dean sway a bit as he reached for another book. Dean righted himself, then rubbed his eyes with the heals of his hands.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam took a step in his brother's direction. Bobby was watching Dean worriedly.

"Sam-" Bobby called out in warning when Dean wavered.

Sam was there in a second, grabbing his brother under his arms just as his eyes rolled up in his head. As Sam lowered him gently to the floor, his head resting in Sam's lap, Bobby checked Dean's pulse. "It's a little fast, but he's okay."

Eyes wide, Sam asked, "What the hell happened?"

"He needed sleep, you can only deprive yourself of sleep for so long before your body just gives in." Bobby sat back and shifted his ball cap. "Let's get him to the couch so he can rest more comfortably."

It was a good twelve hours before Sam or Bobby saw any signs of life from Dean. His eyelids fluttered, then finally opened. He looked around in bewilderment, "Why am I sleeping on the couch?"

Sam glared at him, "Because you're an idiot."

"I think what your brother is trying to say is, your exhaustion caught up with you. You passed out," Bobby explained.

Dean ran a hand over his face, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away his fatigue, "Huh."

Sam jumped to his feet, anger clear in his eyes. "_Huh. _That's all you have to say? When you went down…You know what? This is it. From now on you are going to sleep every night, even if I have to drug you. You scared the crap out of me, Dean!"

Dean silently watched his brother until Sam stopped for air. "You done?"

Sam's face turned red in anger, then Bobby stepped in, "Dean, now's not the time."

Dean's face flushed with guilt as he sat up, "I'm sorry, Sam. I never meant to scare you. But you know why I can't…"

"You were out for twelve hours, what did you dream about?" Sam asked softly.

"Uh…I don't remember." Dean replied, surprise evident in his voice.

"Sleeping doesn't necessarily mean your going to relive or recall your memories every night. And even if you do, you know I'm here, Bobby's here, and we'll help you. Just don't run yourself down, we need you to help figure this all out." Bobby listened to Sam's speech and watched him finish it off with the patented puppy dog eyes that always ensure Dean's cooperation.

Knowing the matter was settled, and that Dean would be sleeping from now on, Bobby stood from his seat. "Boys, this Hallmark moment is touching and all, but I'm starving. Who wants something to eat?" Since both brothers were undoubtedly hungry, he went to the kitchen without needing to hear their answers.


End file.
